As Darkness Gathers (Dark Betrayals Book 2) (10 page)

I yanked away from Timothy and ran, slipping and sliding in the mud, screaming Clay’s name. I saw his head bob above the water and increased my pace, leaping over boulders and shrubs. I fell twice but scrambled back to my feet. Timothy was panting behind me, but I didn’t look back. A branch slapped across my face so hard it felt like a lash, and the burn blinded me for an instant. Still I ran.

“There, Finch!” Timothy shouted, and I saw the widening of the river just as he did.

My burst of speed came from desperation, and I slid down the muddy bank, splashed through the shallow water, and lunged for Clay as he was swept by. I caught the hood of his sweatshirt and twisted my fist into the material. One of the tree roots slammed into my shoulder, almost wrenching me away from him, but I managed to hold on even as I was pulled into the deep current. I sucked in a breath of air and then slipped under.
 

There was a yank on my hair, as if my scalp were being torn away, but then my head broke the surface and I gulped in air, choking.
 

“I have you!” Timothy shouted.

“Don’t let go!” I wrapped my hands tighter into Clay’s sweatshirt as the current threatened to tug him away.

Timothy dragged me back, and within a few feet, I was able to touch the rocky bottom. Timothy relinquished his grip on my hair and caught hold of Clay. Together we pulled him into the shallows, stumbling over the rocks until we heaved him onto dry land.

He was unconscious. The bandage around his head had been torn away, and the wound gushed blood. Numerous cuts and scrapes now lacerated his face. He wasn’t breathing.

I tilted his head back, pinched his nose closed, and sealed my mouth over his to give him two steady breaths of air. Then I leaned over him and compressed his chest thirty times, counting aloud.
 

Timothy gave a hiccupping sob when Clay remained motionless, but I closed my mouth over his again and, on the second breath, I felt his chest spasm. I rolled him onto his side just as he began to cough. Timothy and I pounded on his back as he choked and spit out water.

When he took a wheezing breath, I began to weep. I was shaking so hard I couldn’t stand to move him further up the bank. “T-Timothy—”

“I’ll go get help.” His lips were blue, and he was trembling as well. He stood and staggered. “I’ll get help. It’s not too far away.”

I nodded, lifting Clay’s shoulders enough that I could slide my legs under him and cradle his head in my lap. Timothy stumbled a few steps, broke into a limping jog, and disappeared into the trees.

Clay shivered, his breath faint and rasping against my neck, and I pulled him closer, rocking back and forth.

“Stay with me. Stay with me now. Don’t leave me.” I chanted it over and over until my voice was a soundless croak.
 

The wind began its haunting symphony in the trees, and the river rushed on.
 

As darkness gathered, Clay stopped shivering. I patted his face, stroked my fingers over his short hair, and rubbed his chest. My lips moved, but no sound escaped.

It wasn’t until I heard a whine and felt a cold, damp nose against my ear that I realized I’d slipped into a doze hunched over Clay. I couldn’t find the strength to lift my head as the nose nuzzled under my chin. My forehead dropped onto Clay’s as a deep bark resonated in the air and then the large, warm, furry body curled around my back.

I didn’t know if it was moments or hours later when I saw the lights and heard the growl of engines.
 

There was more barking, and then voices, and then there was only silence and darkness.
 

Chapter Six

Slow, steady beeping and the hushed murmur of voices woke me. I blinked at the ceiling, frowning at the unfamiliar surroundings.

“Jacob, she’s awake.”

My mother’s face appeared above me, my father behind her with his hands on her shoulders.

“Mama?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Her red-rimmed eyes filled, and her hand trembled as she stroked the hair back from my forehead.

Awareness rolled over me. “I tried . . .” I licked my lips, and my mother raised the head of my bed and held a purple plastic cup to my mouth. I gulped at the water until I almost choked. The cool wetness was such a relief that my eyes slid closed. “I tried to go for help.”

“And you succeeded,” my father said, his voice gruff with emotion. “You’re in a hospital in Ottawa.”

“They . . . they found the others?’

“Everyone’s here, except the first officer. He was flown to another hospital with a larger intensive care unit.”

“They’re all okay?”

“There were some broken bones. They’ve been monitoring Mrs. Mason’s heart, and the young man you pulled out of the river was in bad shape when he got here, but he’s out of ICU now. You had a concussion and a bruised shoulder, and everyone was suffering severe dehydration and stages of hypothermia.”

My teeth started chattering.

“Are you cold, sweetheart?” My mother tucked the bed linens closer around me.

“No, I was . . . I was so scared.”

A tear slid down my mother’s cheek, and my father cleared his throat before he spoke. “We’re proud of you, Finch. Incredibly proud.”

“Edgar?”

“They didn’t leave him behind.”

I felt as if my entire body had been pulverized, but I was warm and the others were safe. My eyes grew heavy.

“Are you in pain?”

“No, Mama. Tired. Just . . . tired.” I felt her cool lips against my brow.
 

“Rest now.”

I awoke to a dip in the mattress and the soft clasp of a hand around my own.

Julia’s chin wobbled. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t wake you. But you were lying so still, and I needed to see your eyes.”

I squeezed her fingers and smiled. “I’ve really been craving one of your cupcakes.”

Her sob hiccupped into a laugh. “Well, you’re in luck. I brought five dozen with me.” She knuckled away the tears collecting on her lashes. “You’re okay? I won’t hurt you if I hug you?”

“Of course not.”

My eyes slid closed, tears burning behind my lids as we hugged.
 

I was enveloped in the scent that always clung to her, sugar and flour, and the familiarity of it was piercing. Both our eyes were damp when she drew back.

“I talked to Sydney,” she said. “She wishes she were here, but she’s on a three-day trip. And you know how she is about hospitals.”

I nodded.
 

Sydney’s aversion to hospitals had escalated during her brother William’s long stint of rehabilitation after his accident but had been building all her life. Her mother had been a frequent visitor in the psychiatric unit until she’d committed suicide five years ago.

“What about the bakery? Shannon and Drake came through?” Her assistants were notoriously unreliable.
 

She snorted. “I didn’t even bother with them. I just closed the shop.”

“Ju—”

She waved away my protests. “Finch, you are far more important to me than an order of three hundred titty cupcakes.”

I laughed but both of us turned, startled, at the strangled sound from the doorway. Timothy stood there balanced on crutches, his knee in a brace, gaping at my friend while Daniel, choking, stood behind him with his arm in a sling.

Julia folded her arms and drawled, “Frat boys. What is it with men and their obsession with breasts?”

Daniel’s gaze—half intrigued, half bewildered—dropped to Julia’s ample chest and then jerked back up to her face.
 

I shook my head at her mischievous grin. I could understand their fascination.
 

She wore a tight blue dress that emphasized her all-in-the-right-places curves, a red vest embroidered with a black oriental design, black tights with white polka dots, and yellow ankle boots with wedge heels. For her, it was a tame outfit. The proverbial cherry on top was her pink hair, gathered in a loose knot at the crown of her head, secured with a purple bow. For all her quirky fashion, though, her round and dimpled face was lovely, and her smile was sweet as she moved aside to let Timothy approach the bed, hobbling on his crutches.

“I hear you’re a real hero, buddy,” she said. Timothy turned bright red when she kissed his cheek. “Finch is my best friend. Thank you.” She turned to the man standing in the doorway. Daniel towered over her, and she smiled up at him. “I’m Julia. What’s your name, handsome?”

He blinked at her, and the tips of his ears turned red. “Daniel.” His voice sounded a little hoarse.

“Well, Daniel, I brought cupcakes.” She gestured to the colorful stack of boxes she’d placed on a chair. “I’m the best baker this side of the Himalayas. Want one?”

“Are they shaped like . . . uh . . .”

She laughed and collected the boxes. “Like boobs? Knockers? Tatas?” She took mercy on him when his ears grew redder. “Nah, these are just regular, nipple-less cupcakes that are so good it’s like an orgasm for your mouth. Come on, you can help me give them out.”

Timothy and I stared after the two of them as they exited the room.

“Wow.” He set the crutches aside and perched beside me on the bed. “She’s your friend?”

I chuckled. “She’s pretty great, isn’t she?”

“She’s pretty weird.” He glanced at me. “In a really cool way, you know what I mean?”

“I do know what you mean.” I smiled and pointed at the brace. “How’s the knee?”

“It’s fine.” He shrugged with tough teen bravado, but then surprised me by leaning his head against my shoulder and murmuring in a small voice, “I ran as fast as I could.”

Unsure if he would welcome a hug, I wrapped my arms tentatively around his thin frame. When he didn’t resist, I tightened the embrace. “I know you did. We wouldn’t have made it without you, Timothy.”

The hospital gown I wore grew damp where Timothy’s cheek rested, but I made no comment on his tears.
 

I held him close for several long moments until Daniel appeared in the doorway again. There was gratitude in the man’s eyes as his gaze met mine, and when he approached us, he palmed the back of his son’s head in a gesture so tender it made my throat ache.

“I can’t thank you enough, Finch,” he said, voice gruff with emotion. “When we were boarding the plane, they told us we were going to be in good hands. And we were.”

I couldn’t speak for a moment, and Daniel appeared to understand. Timothy straightened, and neither of us looked at him so he had a moment of privacy to scrub his hands over his face.

Finally, he asked, “Were her cupcakes as good as she said they were?”

Daniel shook his head. “They were better.”
 

I hid a smile at the bemusement in his voice.
 

“She’s in Henry’s room right now trying to charm a smile out of the bast . . . uh . . . out of the man.”

Timothy scooted off the edge of the bed and tucked the crutches under his arms. “I want one. Maybe two.”

“Good luck,” Daniel said. “She slapped my hand away when I reached for a second one.”

I laughed and called after them, “Don’t let her give them all away without saving me one.”